Tuesday, May 3, 2016

The Old Barbies

With
the loss of my Father last year, I am especially missing my mother this Mother’s
Day. I wrote this piece shortly before her death fifteen years ago, and we read
it at her service. I thought it might be time to share it with One Ringing Bell
readers. May you have a blessed Mother’s Day no matter your circumstances.

The Old Barbies

I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.
Philippians 1:3

In three worn plastic cases
on a shelf in the top of my daughter’s closet is a collection fondly called the
“old Barbies.” These are the dolls of my childhood; some look better than others
do.There’s my first Barbie with blonde
bubble hair and a red swimsuit, the Barbie with a molded plastic head and three
wigs, Skipper and Francie who still look pretty good, and a Barbie who had the
first bendable legs, but now also has green oxidized ears. Store-bought Barbie
clothes came at a high premium for our family in the mid- sixties.I only received these on my birthday or
Christmas.

However, when I was eight or
nine, my mother spent days making an assortment of tiny hand sewn garments:
evening gowns of satin and tulle with sequins around the bodice, sixties print
skirts and blouses, a lined purple velveteen coat. Even Ken had a suit, a
sailor outfit and pajamas.

All of these fashions have
grown a little shabby through the years, as many small hands have imagined
wonderful things with them. Even after decades of wear, the “old Barbies” have
a mysterious appeal. They have been highly favored over “new Barbies.”

Somehow, little ones always sense
the love sewn into these pieces of fabric; somehow, they know the precious
labor that produced them. In those weary hours my mother spent crouched over a
sewing machine fitting sleeves no bigger than a finger into dime sized arm
holes, she had no way of knowing these would become a legacy. When I see children playing with the “old Barbies,” I know the hours my mother spent
making these were some of her crowning moments.

As a child, I never
understood the price my mother must have paid to make these doll clothes, for
she bravely fought many private battles that spanned her adult life. Many never
knew about her struggles. Now, I realize that every garment she made cost her
dearly. I don’t know how she did it. Making tiny doll clothes would be a challenge
for almost anyone, but for her—they were a costly labor of love.

My mother is now in Heaven, but
at our house we will always give thanks to God for her life, as we remember her
for many reasons, especially the “old Barbies.”Related: A Chair and a Mother's Courage HERE

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